


A Rutting in Portlandia

by saltandbyrne



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Crack, Barebacking, Community: homebrewbingo, Community: sassy_minibang, Dirty Talk, Domestic, Fae & Fairies, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Rimming, Rutting, Schmoop, Tongues, Weirdness, Were-Creatures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-12
Updated: 2012-12-12
Packaged: 2017-11-20 22:37:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/590424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltandbyrne/pseuds/saltandbyrne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <img/></p>
<p>Dealing with his weremoose boyfriend's annual rut is the least of Misha's problems.  He has kumquats to deliver, moose antlers that need his fairy magic, and a dinner party with his friendly neighborhood polyamorous wereseals.  Or, as Misha likes to call it, just another day in Portland.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Rutting in Portlandia

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the sassy-minibang 2012 challenge. A million, billion thanks to lifelesslyndsey for her incredible art. She captured my weird little story so perfectly. Go shower her with praise and pie! Do it! This would all be one run-on sentence without fobsessed54's beta. Thank you, honey. And as always, wifey of the year award goes to verucasalt123 for encouraging me to go for gold in the cracky wereanimal olympics.

  

While finding a moose in his bedroom wasn't exactly an every day occurrence for Misha, it still wasn't the sort of thing he was just used to.

Well, fine, the sight of it had sort of become par for the course, but the smell was another story entirely.

“Honey.” Misha pauses in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. “We talked about this.”

The moose currently rubbing its antlers against Misha's bedposts stops and stares back at Misha, giant hazel eyes blinking slowly.

“Don't make those puppy-moose eyes at me, I know you can hear me.”

The moose sighs and Misha watches the air around it shift until he's staring at six and a half feet of splendidly naked boyfriend.

“Well, hello there,” Misha uncrosses his arms and walks over to Jared, stepping into him for a hug. Jared looks down at him and sighs.

“I'm sorry, babe.” Jared kisses the top of Misha's head. “I don't think the necklace is working anymore and I got so itchy.” Jared pouts his lower lip out as Misha looks up at him.

“Let me see,” Misha holds out his hand as Jared slips the long leather cord off his neck, handing Misha the amber necklace. Misha holds it in his palm and closes his eyes.

“Yep, this one's all worn out. I'm sorry, baby,” Misha leans up to kiss him, “I'll recharge it, ok?” Jared nods as Misha runs a hand through his hair. “Oh, sweetie, your antlers must be driving you crazy.”

Jared was a carpenter, a Cancer with his moon in Virgo, a vegan, and Misha's boyfriend of four years. He was also a were-moose, which mattered a lot less to Misha than the fact that he was the sweetest man on earth and could still fuck Misha cross-eyed after three years of living together.

Admittedly, the were-moose thing did have its downsides. Jared had been driving Misha up the wall this past week, which wasn't really Jared's fault. It's not like he could control his hormones. He had a yearly rut, open season for moose mating. It was just one of those things they dealt with, like Misha's annoying brother and the persistent leak in the guest bedroom. All part of life together.

Besides, Misha isn't exactly normal boyfriend material himself.

“C'mere, baby, let me help you out.” Misha takes a deep breath and settles his hand on Jared's chest. He grimaces a little as he feels his teeth descend.

While it's technically called Fey-Species Supernumerary Series Dentition, Misha knew what humans called them: Fairy Fangs. While he was able to keep them in check most of the time because they scared the crap out of people, he couldn't hold them back when he drew from the well of magic all fairies possessed.

And yes, Misha's heard all the jokes, a fairy who's a fairy, very fucking funny. Misha's usual response was a surly, “I prefer moose-fucking faggot, thank you very much,” to anyone who was stupid enough to say anything.

Misha closes his eyes to center himself, Jared shivering a little as Misha connects with him and pulls a little, shifting around in that indescribable field of energy that Misha can touch. Misha was sure there was some metaphysical displacement of energy conservation of mass blah blah blah to explain what he was doing, but for him it was as simple as switching on a light bulb. A quick flick, and presto, antlers.

And they just look pathetic. Misha frowns sympathetically as he looks at the velvet peeling off his boyfriend's antlers. Jared had described it as feeling like the worst sunburn you can imagine times a million. It was all part of his rut, along with the phenomenally gross pheromones his moose-form emitted.

Misha was sure they smelled fucking fantastic to a she-moose (Misha flat-out refuses to say cow, he just can't) and any female were-moose within a five mile radius would probably spring a giant lady-moose-boner if she walked past their house right now. But Misha, who was not a moose and certainly wasn't a lady, thought they smelled like a used baby diaper made out of dead raccoons.

He hadn't given Jared that specifically vivid description, but he'd had to put his foot down and insist on no moose in the house during his rut. Or, as Misha thought of it, antler-peeling, bang-Misha-into-the-mattress-twelve-ways-from-Sunday week. Jared's sex drive was healthy on his worst days, and it was crazy through the roof ridiculous when he was rutting.

Misha didn't say _everything_ about shacking up with a moose was bad.

Jared shook his head a little, adjusting to the weight of his antlers as he tilts his head and scratches them against the tree branches that made up their bed posts. Jared had been thrilled when Misha discovered that he could help Jared shift into a hybrid form. That Misha had figured it out while he was balls-deep in Jared's ass was one of those funny little stories they saved for really good cocktail parties.

Misha didn't mind it either. He'd come to enjoy playing with Jared's antlers. They really were soft, and scratching them made Jared horny as fucking hell so really, win-win with that one.

Misha watches for a second as Jared rubs his antlers against a birch branch, eyes closing like a dog being scratched behind the ear. The branches are perfectly placed for Jared to wedge the lower prongs (totally what they're called) of his antlers in between them. Misha had often wondered if Jared didn't have this in mind when he designed this particularly sweeping romantic gesture.

Misha didn't literally need to sleep in a bed of holy birch and _Azolla nilotica_ (which, fine, better known as fairy moss, joke away) but if he didn't he would eventually develop Fey-Species Immunodeficiency Syndrome. He'd mentioned it to Jared after a particularly invigorating night of sex had ended with Jared accidentally biting through Misha's pillow and spilling moss-stuffing everywhere. That had been a bitch to clean up. Jared had just listened in that patient, wide-eyed way of his as Misha explained about the nitrogen in the air that no one but fairies had to worry about and how the plants helped his body process it.

Six months later, they took the plunge and moved in together. Jared had made some beautiful furniture for their new home, using his signature reclaimed materials to make cabinets and a whole new dining set that took Misha's breath away. But the real heart of Jared's furniture-making had been the bed.

It looked like a four-poster that would make a Disney princess green with envy. Birch branches twined together towards the ceiling, meeting in the middle to make an open canopy. On top of the bed was a custom-made mattress pad filled with vegan-alternative filling and fairy moss.

Misha may have cried some very respectable, virile fairy tears when Jared showed it to him.

Watching Jared contentedly scratch his velvet off against their bed, Misha's pretty sure Jared knew it would come in handy for more than Misha's unique respiration issues.

“Want me to help you, baby?” Misha wraps his hands around Jared's waist and pulls him toward the bed, settling him to sit up against the pillows. Jared sighs with satisfaction as Misha strips his shirt and pants off, climbing into Jared's lap to face him as he starts to scratch at the soft, peeling strips on his antlers.

“Oh, fuck, Mish,” Jared almost purrs as Misha peels off a strip of velvet. Misha arches an eyebrow as he feels Jared starting to harden up under him, which was totally not at all the entire reason Misha sat himself down in Jared's lap in the first place.

Jared's huge hands reach down to cup Misha's ass as he leans up to get at a strip of velvet in the back of Jared's left prong (saying that really never gets old), fingers digging into him as Misha settles back down and holds the velvet in his fingers.

“It's so soft,” Misha says, rubbing it between the pad of his thumb and forefinger. Jared stares up at him, pupils dilating as Misha plays with it. “Bet it'd feel good if I did this,” Misha licks his lips suggestively as Jared watches him, slack-jawed and hard as all fucking get out underneath him, as Misha runs the velvety strip over his chest, circling it over his nipples as Jared's nostrils flare.

Something about having his scent all over Misha made Jared fucking cuckoo for cocoa puffs when he was in his rut. Misha had been a little grossed out at first, sure, he was essentially rubbing dead skin all over his body. But it was softer than anything Misha had ever felt, and it was Jared's, and it made Jared do things like flip Misha over on his back and kiss him until Misha couldn't see straight.

Like now, when Misha found himself pinned under Jared, full weight of his moose pressing against him. Misha runs his hands up Jared's back, kissing him as Jared reaches down to slip his hand into Misha's boxer briefs and wrap it around his cock.

Misha groans while Jared leans down to kiss Misha's neck as he strokes him. Misha runs a hand through his hair and stops when his fingers hit an antler.

Misha tugs on Jared's hair a little bit, just enough to get his attention as Jared looks up at him. “Can I put the rack away, baby?” Jared nods and goes back to doing distracting things to Misha's private parts. Misha bares his teeth, both rows of them, and focuses as he plants a hand on Jared's back.

When Jared is back to being a normal, exceptionally gorgeous gigantic man whose sole purpose in life seems to be reminding Misha that his balls are the best thing ever, especially when Jared does _that_ , jesus christ, Misha clicks his teeth back into place and runs his hands through Jared's hair.

“Fuck, Jay,” Misha pulls Jared's head back from the spectacular hickey he's surely left behind on Misha's neck, “don't tease.” Jared smiles at him, all sloe-eyed arousal and swollen pink lips. He reaches down to tug Misha's underwear off as Misha arches up to help.

Jared sucks a steady line of kisses down Misha's body, Misha's hands in his hair helpfully showing him the fastest route to Misha's throbbing hard dick. Jared takes his time until Misha's writhing around pathetically, clinging to his dignity and willing himself not to beg for it.

The only reason Jared can take it this slow is that they already did it twice this morning, Misha waking up to the pleasant surprise of Jared's tongue so far up his ass it practically counted as breakfast. It wasn't the worst way to start a day.

Misha doesn't mean to make such a whorish moan when Jared finally, jesus finally, closes his lips around the head of Misha's cock and takes all of it in his mouth with excruciating slowness.

Jared might be a moose, a vegan, and a really sentimental sweetheart, but he's a motherfucking champion when it comes to sucking dick, holy fucking jesus. Misha has to dig his fingernails into his palms just to stave himself off because clearly Jared needs to do this for the rest of eternity.

Then Jared does that _thing_ to his balls and Misha is just fucked, steady stream of _fuckJayfuckfuckfuck_ running out of his mouth as he comes, Jared licking his lips before he rolls over onto his back next to Misha.

Misha tries to form a coherent sentence and fails several times before he manages to slur out, “Bet you wanna fuck me, don't you?” Which is about the wittiest thing he can come up with after his brains just catapulted out of his dick.

“No,” Jared says, hand stroking his cock absentmindedly as he lays his head back on the pillows. “Wanna open you up with my mouth and see if I can make you come again.” Misha groans at the thought of that.

“Then I wanna fuck you.”

It doesn't take much convincing to get Misha on top of him, legs straddled over his head. Misha rocks his hips up a few times, pulling himself away as Jared leans his head up.

Misha can tease, too, thank you.

Jared finally decides to put his gigantic man paws to use, thumbs digging into either side of Misha's ass to pull him apart as his fingers curl into Misha's hipbones, pulling him down and spreading him open. Misha gives in, because really, everyone wins when Jared opens his mouth and slowly licks a stripe up the crack of Misha's ass.

Misha groans out a guttural “Oh fuck, Jared,” like he always fucking does, because jesus fucking mary and the saints Jared's tongue is a goddamn national treasure. Misha has to struggle to keep his teeth in as Jared starts to circle around his hole in these quick little swipes that make Misha lose his fucking mind. Each pass of his tongue catches against the tender skin of it and tugs just enough to send sparks up Misha's spine.

When Jared was in his human form he was pretty much a normal human being except, as Misha likes to put it, where his most useful parts were. Jared's tongue is perfect. Not just that Jared's good at using it and eats Misha's ass like its an olympic event, which was true. Jared's tongue is _different_. Misha knows that it's technically designed for eating shrubs and bark and crap, but the slightly rougher, bumpy texture and the extra length of it was clearly designed by some deity who was a huge fan of Misha's asshole.

And fucking _fuck_ Jared is making good use of it, licking tight little circles and pointing it to thrust inside him. Misha rocks back onto it, jaw clenching as he feels every little bump catch against him. It's exquisite and just the right side of too much good and Misha's hard again before he knows it.

Misha arches his head back and shudders as Jared digs his hands in and pulls even harder, working his tongue in deeper. Misha spreads his legs as far as he can, moaning as Jared rolls his tongue inside him, stretching him and pulling on the eighty gazillion nerve endings that all have Misha feeling scatter-shot pulses under his fucking skin.

Misha could certainly come like this, and it's not that he doesn't want to see the tear-inducingly beautiful sight of his own spunk flying across Jared's perfection of a stomach. But Misha knows what Jared really likes when he's doing this, and it only seems fair.

It's a Herculean effort to gather his thoughts and think about anything other than the white noise that's hissing in his brain, but Misha manages to get it together enough to bend his head back down and look down the expanse of Jared's body underneath him. He plants a hand on either side of Jared's waist and licks his lips, watching as a shiny little drop of precome forms at the head of Jared's dick.

Jared is a fucking enormous person by any standard, so it would only stand to reason that he'd be packing some serious heat downstairs. But Jared wasn't just a person, and he didn't just have a dick. Just like his tongue, it was … special.

Misha remembers all the jokes his brother and their cousins used to crack about human dicks. “They look like they're wearing hoodie sweatshirts”, “why are they so wrinkly.” Fairies didn't have foreskins. Misha has no clue why, and no one he's fucked has ever complained. Misha's more show than grow, what you see is what you get. The fact that his dick looks like something you can buy in sparkly pink silicone at Toys in Babeland probably didn't hurt either.

If humans were wearing hoodie sweatshirts, Jared was wearing one of those comically oversized ones that underfed college girls seemed to favor. Or some sort of medieval monk's robe. Even now, when Jared's leaking hard and eager to go, he's still got a good three inches of secret cock in there. Math was never Misha's strongest suit, but twelve plus three divided by the radius of holy fucking thickness was enough to make Misha swear that thing was never getting inside him the first time he saw Jared naked.

Jared had explained to him, in his totally adorable apologetic-about-my-gigantic-monster-cock aww shucks way, that the rest of it wouldn't come out until Jared was inside him. After Misha's eyes had returned to their normal size, he'd put on his game face (sans teeth) and given it a go. The literal hour of toe-curling prep time Jared had taken had certainly made it easier, and when he finally fucked Misha for the first time, Misha had lost his ever-loving fairy mind.

When Jared had pushed all the way in and given him a few gentle rocks, Misha had still wondered if he was ever going to get used to this insane, burning cracked in half at the spine stretch. Then Jared had given him a mumbled warning and the rest of him came out to say hello and Misha's pretty sure he started speaking in tongues. It was like having someone jump-start his prostate with a fucking car battery. Misha thought coming until you blacked out was one of those over the top sayings that people threw around.

It was amazing the things you could get used to after you came all over yourself the third time in a row.

Misha grunts out something unintelligible as Jared curls his tongue and flicks it in and out of Misha's ass as Misha bends down and forks his own tongue out to lap up the thin trickle of precome leaking from the tip of Jared's cock. Jared groans into him, which is totally not at all the reason Misha keeps flicking half his tongue along the slit of his cock.

Getting to know Jared's body had been fun. Dating a were wasn't exactly frowned upon by his family, like Misha gave a flying rat's ass what they thought, but they still got sideways looks, especially from other weres. Misha secretly thought they were more prejudiced than humans sometimes, assuming Jared would only find another were-moose attractive, even if he was gay. But Misha and Jared both thought part of the fun of extra-species sexy times was getting to enjoy all the extras that came with the other person's genome.

Jared's not the only one with a weird tongue.

It's technically called Fey-Species Lingual Bifurcation, but Misha prefers the old timey name: devil's tongue. Sure, it had gotten a ton of his ancestors burned at the stake, but it also made his kind some of the most expensive hookers on the planet.

Misha makes the most of it, sliding opposing strokes along the sides of Jared's cock as he works his way down. He arches his neck and gets as far down as he can manage at this angle, bending his spine and whining at the loss of contact when Jared pulls his tongue out.

“Fuck, Misha, jesus christ,” Jared groans out as Misha works his tongue faster, swiping it over the head of Jared's cock on every upstroke. Jared bucks his hips up, fingers digging into Misha's ass hard enough to leave pretty little bruises that Misha knows Jared will kiss and apologize for later.

Misha hums out as deeply as he can against Jared's dick, getting it as far into his throat as he can while he rolls his hips from side to side, hoping Jared will get the message.

Jared's always been a good communicator, and today is no exception as he sinks two slick fingers into Misha's thoroughly tongue-fucked ass with no resistance. Jared works them in and out slowly, opening and closing them back together as Misha writhes back onto his hand.

Misha moans at the stretch as Jared works a third and fourth finger into him, index and middle fingers of both hands stretching him open on either side. Jared pushes all four in and leaves them there, letting Misha adjust before he pulls them out to the tips just to sink them back quickly, curling his knuckles and making Misha quake.

Misha's arms are starting to shake from holding himself up, burning hot sensation overload skittering up his spine as Jared twists his fingers and pulls. Jared gives him a final push before he pulls his fingers out.

“Have to fuck you, Mish, please.” Misha gives one last swirl of his tongue, pulling off with a wet pop of his lips that makes Jared grunt under him. Misha rolls his neck as he swings his leg around to face Jared, arching up to stroke his own cock a few times while Jared watches, eyes narrowed down to slits as he licks his lips and picks the lube up.

Misha winks at him and snatches the bottle out of Jared's hands. He pours out a generous dollop onto his palm, reaching behind himself to slick Jared's cock up. Misha leans forward until he can line himself up, smooth push down as he takes the head in.

Misha breathes, deeply, feeling himself stretch around it because even four fingers and a fuckton of lube isn't really enough to prepare him for this, thick pressure sinking into him, making his skin too tight until everything narrows down to the point of connection between them, gritty push down as Misha arches his head back and closes his eyes, chest heaving at the effort.

Jared grits his teeth and huffs out a breath as Misha pushes, forcing his muscles to open up as he slowly sinks down until the backs of his thighs are flush with Jared's hips. Jared's almost shaking under him, hands digging into Misha's thighs as Jared obviously wills himself not to thrust up into Misha the way he wants to. Misha presses a hand onto his stomach, eyes locked on Jared's as he bites his lip and moves his hips, figure eight swivel making them both groan in unison.

Misha takes one last breath and exhales through his mouth, nodding at Jared as a smile spreads across his face. “You ready?” Misha moves his hand from Jared's stomach and plants his palms behind himself on Jared's thighs for leverage, rocking his hips up to pull off an inch before he sinks back down.

“Yes, fuck, c'mon, Jay, fuck m-” And then Misha loses the whole words thing, and really, who needs words when Jared is gripping his thighs and bucking up into him hard enough to make Misha see stars, aching stretch giving way to that perfect, radiant fullness that's already getting Misha a little giddy.

“Jesus fuck, Misha,” Jared gasps, “so fucking tight, how the god fuck _fuck_...” and there may have been a thought in there somewhere but Jared loses it as Misha starts to arch back into each thrust, meeting him until the only sounds either of them hear are the wet smack of their bodies coming together and the wordless grunts and moans they both let out.

Sometimes Misha loves the rapid healing and muscle recovery time that comes with being a fairy, like when he burns himself while he's making preserves or never feels sore after he and Jared go to kundalini yoga. Sometimes it sucks a bag of dicks, like when your boyfriend fucked you twice this morning and your ass just doesn't get the memo that a little lag time in the recovery department might not be a bad thing.

It's not all bad, though, watching the way Jared throws his head back, muscles on his neck straining out as he screams out something that might be Misha's name or the sound of him choking on his own tongue. While it might take a lot of work, Misha's always tight like a whole host of things it's neither appropriate nor legal to stick your dick in.

Misha knows he's getting close to the fun bit, hazel eyes completely black as they roll back into his skull, Jared's hands digging into him as Misha picks up the pace and slams himself back down onto Jared's cock as hard as he can stand. Jared's gasping in breaths and beading sweat on his forehead, jaw working back and forth as Misha rides him.

“Fuck, baby, m'gonna,” Jared rasps out, whole body going tense under Misha as that extra three inches of fucking awesome comes out, swelling pressure on Misha's sweet spot hitting him like a charge, shooting through every nerve in his body until he's pretty sure he could light up a small nation.

“Unsheathed? I just, no, I cannot...” Misha had laughed when Jared had tried to tell him what it was technically called when he got hard-hard, like, all the way up inside him hard, and while technical terms had their place, 'sheath' was up there with 'gluteal' and 'rectum' on the list of unsexy words that do in fact have to do with Misha's sex life. And how could he really describe this feeling, being ridiculously, can't see straight fucked and then getting fucked some more? Extra-fucked? Super-fucked? Moose-fucked?

Misha was just sticking with the unnamed deity who loves him theory, fingernails digging into Jared's thighs as Misha arches back until everything is Jared and nothing hurts.

Jared wraps a hand around Misha's cock and strokes him quickly, thumb flicking against the underside once, twice, and that other number that comes after two before Misha comes, shooting all over Jared's chest as his orgasm is ripped out of his fucking toenails, letting out a high-pitched wail that would embarrass someone who gave a fuck about anything else.

Right now all Misha cares about is Jared's heartbeat inside of him, Jared's hands on him tethering him as Misha lets the white hot pleasure fucking love you baby just wash over him, body seizing and shaking as he forgets how to breathe, how to do anything except feel alive and full of love.

Jared just makes Misha feel things like that. Misha blames Jared's gigantic monster dick and takes absolutely no responsibility for being such a big fucking girl in bed.

“Yes, baby, fuck, oh fuck Misha, so fucking good, baby,” Jared's fucking into him as fast as he can now, holding Misha in place with both hands on his hips as he pulls him down onto his cock. “Yes, yes, just like that,” Jared moans, like Misha's doing anything except trying not to fall over while Jared bounces him on his dick, “yes, baby, fuck, c'mon, oh fuck yes Misha fuck yes yes yes oh god,” and Jared breaks off with some dirty, growled-out version of Misha's name as his body arches up off the bed, nipples pointing up as he goes bowstring taut under Misha's legs and comes inside him, too deep in him to really feel anything except a vague wet heat spreading through him as Jared gasps and wordlessly opens and closes his mouth.

Misha wants to admire how fucking gorgeous Jared looks like this, sweaty and flushed and fox-eyed, but his feet are starting to go numb underneath him and Jared really needs to be kissed right now.

Misha rarely laments the height difference between him and Jared, but it does make it almost impossible for Misha to kiss him while Jared's all lax and boneless under him, not in any shape to sit up and meet Misha's mouth. So Misha sighs and slowly, carefully, bends forward, ignoring Jared's mewl of displeasure as he slips out of Misha, sticky trail of come running out of him as he rolls over by Jared's side.

Jared's rut might be fuck-Misha-into-the-mattress week but it's also endless-mountain-of-laundry week. And it's totally worth it as Jared tucks Misha under his arm and pulls him in for a kiss, mouths still locked together as Misha slips into totally sweet post-fuck nap, take two.

*

When he wakes up Jared's just staring at him, dopey smile on his face. Misha grumbles something at him and rolls over onto his back.

Jared kisses his temple and spoons into his side, big hand over Misha's chest. “Love you.”

Misha turns to look at him. “You sure?” Jared smiles. “Even if I need you to run some deliveries with me?”

Jared rolls his eyes and sighs.

"What am I, slave labor?"

Misha sits up on an elbow and narrows his eyes at his boyfriend.

"I prefer to think of you as my pickle-hauling draft moose."

Jared snorts and pushes Misha back down on the bed. "You're gonna owe me later," he says, leaning in for a kiss.

"Well, don't forget, we're having dinner with the BAMs later."

Jared raises his eyebrows. "We are?"

"Yes, I told you two days ago. You were probably too busy staring at my stunning visage to pay attention." Misha strikes a pose and clicks his teeth down into Blue Steel Shark. Jared just stares at him and smiles.

Misha had to admit, a guy who still looked at you like you had the best milkshake in the yard even when you had your sharkteeth in was pretty special.

Shaking his head to clear the goopy girl feelings and retract his teeth, Misha sits up.

"They're down from Warrenton and this was the only night we could all get together." Misha stands up and stretches. "And Jeff said he had something to tell us," Misha quirks an eyebrow at Jared as he sits up.

"Do you think...?"

"I don't know. Probably. I hope not."

"Aww, come on, Mish... Baby seals! Even you have to admit that's fucking cute."

Misha rolls his eyes. "Or delicious."

Jared tosses a pillow at him. Misha liked to joke about eating babies, but he wasn't _that_ kind of fairy. That was just another human myth, like the old saying that drinking fairy blood would cure smallpox. Or was it syphilis?

"Fine, kind of sort of maybe cute. But I am not fucking babysitting their pups or kits or whatever they're called." Weres were so sensitive about their taxonomy. It had taken a gift basket and a month of phone calls to allay Amber's sensitive lady seal feelings when Misha had congratulated Jeff and Jensen on adding a new bitch to their family.

And seriously, did she really expect Misha to say cow? Just, no, he just could not.

The Benson-Ackles-Morgans really weren't that hard to get along with, all things considered. And Misha thought it was perfectly reasonable to make a few interspecies social slip-ups once in a while. It's not like he could check the index of "Getting Along With Your Friendly Neighborhood Polyamorous Wereseals."

"Cubs, Mish, they're called cubs."

"Fine, I'm not babysitting any barfing, pants-shitting little cubs. And if you start quizzing me on aggregate nouns you are never getting laid again."

Misha sasses himself right on into the bathroom to take a shower.

Jensen and Misha had been friends for years, meeting at the Portland Free-Running Interspecies Shopping Cart 5k Charity Race. Misha's team had kicked the shit out of his, but Jensen had still complimented Misha on his cart theme: Eat Local - Go Down on a Fairy.

Jensen had certainly been pretty enough to catch Misha's eye, but one awkward first date later they decided that they were much better off as friends. That intense-stare mother hen thing would have had Misha peeling his skin off in about a week.

And he and Jeff were just perfect together. The older seal's laid-back papa bear (papa bull, fine, fucking were terms) energy was just what Jensen needed to temper his melancholy and chronic serious-face.

Amber and Jared had volunteered together at the Were Rights Alliance. Amber was one of those perfect Portland girls that Misha just loved. She was a graphic designer, were rights activist, and locavore foodie with gauged ears, tattoos and coke bottle glasses. Misha both adored her and feared her.

When Jared had suggested introducing Amber to "the J's", Misha had assumed they'd all go swimming together or eat sushi or whatever the fuck seals did together.

Amber had moved in eight months later and all three of them had changed their last names to Benson-Ackles-Morgan, which Misha thought was a bit excessive and immediately shortened to “the BAMs.” Lately they'd been dropping hints about expanding the family, so Misha was pretty sure this evening's dinner would have baby news.

Misha sighs and towels himself off. Misha didn't particularly like babies, it was nothing personal, they just creeped him out. Most of them looked like drunk old men who wanted to kill him.

But if it made the BAMs happy, he'd deal. Jared was, of course, ridiculously good with children and would probably want them to pup-sit or seal-nanny or whatever the fuck they were going to call it.

After he recharges the amber necklace that allows Jared to get his antlers out without stinking up the house with eau du Moose, Misha contemplates what little he knows about babies, seals, or how the three of them had sex (even Misha wasn't rude enough to straight up ask but he was secretly dying to know) as he packs up the three orders he and Jared will have to deliver that afternoon.

Misha made his living with kumquats. He liked them because they were small, delicious and exotic, just like him. They also sounded like a euphemism for something really dirty, which only added to their appeal in his opinion. The tart, small fruit had earned Collins Sundries a place on the shelves of some of Portland's best specialty markets and on the menus of quite a few restaurants. His kumquat ginger preserves had won awards, and both Teardrop _and_ Clyde Common featured cocktails highlighting his pickled darlings.

Misha loads up three milkcrates and stacks them by the door. It's not like he can't run deliveries by himself, but it's more fun when Jared helps. And Jared is a gentleman who always carries the heaviest load, holding two crates of jars while Misha opens the back of the Deepfry Dodge, their grungy old converted truck. It's chilly today, which Misha counts as a small blessing because it means Jared won't make any bitchy comments about the smell.

Jared wasn't a vegan because he had any strong feelings about animal rights or living healthy. Jared's body just couldn't digest meat or dairy. The few times he'd tried had ended with him violently barfing his guts out, so Misha didn't blame him if the smell of meat made his stomach turn. Misha had gotten used to eating rabbit food in their house, with the understanding that going out to dinner with friends meant eating as much rare meat as he could consume in one sitting. Misha didn't have a retractable set of razor teeth for nothing.

Their truck was a crappy old Dodge Ram with a diesel engine converted to run off vegetable oil. Misha had enough restaurant contacts to ensure that they fueled her for free. Even if Jared complained about the (local, humane, vegetarian-fed) fried chicken smell, they both felt better about running deliveries for their businesses in it.

They swing by the co-op on the way home to pick up the ingredients for Jared's massaged kale salad, which is both delicious and inappropriate-sounding. Misha always insisted on bringing “the hand job salad” (You have to rub it? Come on) to parties.

Jared washes four bunches of kale before Misha cuts it into thin strips. It goes in a big bowl with the juice of two lemons, some olive oil and a generous dash of salt, and they stand side by side, fingers turning green as they knead the kale to soften it for fifteen minutes. Misha leans his head against Jared's arm and sighs. He'd never really pictured himself enjoying these quiet, domestic moments, but Jared seemed to thrive on them and Misha had come to secretly love them.

When the kale turns a slightly darker green they stop, rinsing their hands before they dice two apples and throw in a cup of dried cranberries and pine nuts. It's all topped off with Misha's balsamic kumquat vinaigrette and allowed to settle in the fridge until they head over to Fremont to see the BAMs.

Their drive over is interrupted by what Misha can sort of glean is an impromptu penny farthing old-timey moustache accordion parade. Jared rolls his eyes while Misha leans out the driver's side window to whistle through his teeth (all of them) at the cute hipsters with facial hair. Misha loves some good scruff.

The BAMs keep an apartment in the city in addition to their sprawling Victorian in Warrenton. While they spent as much time by the ocean as they could, Jeff and Amber still needed to come to the city for work. Jensen had been a physical therapist but Misha knew the only thing he massaged any more was Jeff, or Amber, or Jeff and Amber at the same time, or maybe just Amber while Jeff watched … Misha really needed to get drunk enough to ask them, if he could overcome his suspicion that Amber would flay him alive with a broken Sleater Kinney record and a whiskey glare.

“The kept look becomes you,” Misha coos sweetly as Jensen opens the door, kissing him on the cheek as Amber and Jeff crowd in to hug them hello.

The hand job salad is a hit, as always, and Misha eats more tuna tartare than is really seemly. Amber brings out a chilled ceviche, smiling as Misha dives in. “This is delicious, what is it?” Misha asks through a mouthful of some kind of shellfish, definitely some lime and sesame oil in there, little bit of cilantro, is that papaya? “Let me show you,” Amber goes into the kitchen and comes back holding something that almost makes Misha spit his food out. “It's geoduck. Jeff and I dug them ourselves yesterday.”

Misha always makes jokes about Amber having the biggest dick in the BAM family, so it really shouldn't shock him to see her standing there, smirk on her face, holding what Misha can only describe as a bearded clam with an enormous schlong hanging out of it. Jared bursts out laughing as Misha struggles to swallow the bite in his mouth. There is no way something so appallingly ugly should be so delicious.

“That reminds me of this summer I spent in Brazil, I went to this bath house...” Misha manages to say with a straight face before Jared kicks him under the table.

“So,” Jeff intones deeply, leaning back to look fondly at Amber and Jensen, “we have some news to share with you.”

Misha puts his fork down and knocks back his glass of wine in one gulp. Here we go.

“We're expecting.” Amber beams, squeezing Jeff and Jensen's hands.

Misha thinks he deserves a medal for not blurting out, “Who's the baby daddy?” because, seriously, how is he supposed to know? Instead Jared almost knocks his chair over as he goes to hug all of them, babbling congratulations and all the other appropriate crap you're supposed to say. Misha follows suit, and fine, maybe he is sort of happy for them, but only because they all look so thrilled.

“I hear shea butter is really good for the stretch marks,” Misha whispers sweetly, running his hand over Jensen's stomach. Jensen just rolls his eyes while Amber nudges Misha with her elbow.

“I'm sure you noticed I wasn't drinking,” Amber says to Misha. Misha had noticed. Amber without a craft brew in her hand was an unusual sight. “But I got us something special.” Amber winks at him and disappears into the kitchen, returning with a glass bottle and a dangerous glint in her eyes. She didn't...

Misha couldn't believe some of the rumors about fairies. Nothing frustrated him more than some well-meaning human asking him if he sparkled in the sunlight (where the fuck did that one come from) or if he had gills (again, what?). But some of the strangest facts about his species were, in fact, true.

“Raw, grass-fed, unpasteurized, and full-fat,” Amber purrs at him, pouring out two glasses of cream as Misha's mouth waters.

“Boys, I'm sorry,” Misha says as he raises his glass to toast Amber. “I think your lady is trying to seduce me.”

Milk, specifically cream, got Misha completely, delightfully, ass-over-teakettle wasted. It only lasted for a while, but it was like getting drunk without the barfing or inevitable hangover. And this was the good shit, straight from the cow without any of the usual heat-treatment or hormones pumped into it. He's not entirely sure that it's legal, but Amber trolled farmer's markets the way other girls shopped for shoes.

Misha knew there was a reason he loved Amber so much.

Dessert is a berry crumble (Jeff's specialty, because it always comes out well no matter how baked you are when you make it) which is about a thousand times better when Misha drowns it in cream. Misha curls up next to Jared on the couch while they talk about baby stuff and Misha gets steadily more toasted.

No one will ever accuse Misha of being a bad guest, so he dutifully brings all the plates into the kitchen. Amber rinses them off and hands them to Jensen to load into the dishwasher. Misha watches them, the way Jensen stops once in a while to rub his hand over the small of Amber's back. It's sweet and unconscious, just the sort of thing Jared would do for him if he were pregnant.

And Misha must be fucking tanked if he's thinking about that.

Misha almost jumps as Jeff comes up behind him. “You guys ever think about...” Jeff raises his eyebrows in a question. Misha sighs.

“And lose my girlish figure?” Jeff laughs as Misha heads back into the living room with him. “I don't know, Jeff, I've never really been the kids type. Although Jared certainly is...”

Misha trails off as he watches Jared gathering up wineglasses in his gigantic moose hands. It was one of those conversations they'd never really had, because, ugh, that was up there with funeral arrangements and what to do with elderly parents on the un-fun couples' conversations list. Misha liked things the way they were.

But there were times when he worried, even after four years, that Jared wouldn't be happy with him forever. And fine, Misha wasn't the sentimental, let's get big gay interspecies married type (which they couldn't even do legally, yet) but he knew in his heart that Jared was the one, the big corny love you when you're old and gray _one_.

When Jared went through his yearly week of awesome sexytimes, Misha welcomed it with open arms because, hello, sex, but he also felt this niggling insecurity at the back of his mind. Jared's body was telling him to breed, find some pretty girl moose and knock her up. Misha knew Jared loved him, he certainly told him often enough. But seeing the BAMs look so happy and Jared being so happy for them and three huge glasses of fairy-crack fresh cream didn't leave Misha feeling exactly fantastic.

“Here, baby, let me help you.” Misha goes over to help Jared with the wineglasses, trying to pluck one of them out of Jared's precarious grip. “I got it, Mish, it's ok,” Jared says, looking up to smile at him as Misha pulls his hand away.

Misha's reflexes are normally lightening-fast, but between the cream and his giant, stupid emotions he doesn't react fast enough. Two glasses crash to floor and break. Misha has just fucking had it.

“I can't give you children and I don't know if I want them anyway and maybe you don't want them now but you're going to and I don't even like kids and babies are scared of me and I just want to be with you...”

Misha claps a hand over his mouth as Jared's falls open, eyes just blinking at Misha. And because nothing would better complete this spectacularly awkward moment, Misha sees all three of the happy, pregnant BAMs standing there looking uncomfortable. Well this is just fucking great.

“We were just heading out to the patio,” Jensen says, shooting the awkward smile of the year at them before they all head outside. Why did Misha drink that third glass?

Misha is an adult, a mature, emotionally well-adjusted adult, so he does the only adult thing to do in a situation like this. He runs to the bathroom and locks himself in.

“You are such an asshole,” he slurs out at himself in the mirror. “You look great, but you are suuuuuuch an asshole.”

Sitting on the edge of the tub seems like the sensible thing to do, so Misha perches there and stews, rubbing his eyes and sighing dramatically.

“Are you done talking to yourself in the mirror?” Jared certainly knows him, Misha has to give him that.

Misha just unlocks the door and settles back on his perfectly sensible seat on the bath tub. Jared comes in and sprawls out on the floor like it's perfectly natural, which would make Misha laugh if he wasn't so busy feeling like a gigantic asshat.

“That doesn't look very comfortable,” Jared says, narrowing his eyes the way he does when he's assessing furniture.

“It's not, but I deserve it,” Misha says, and, fine, maybe it's a little over the top, but if he's already locked himself in a bathroom he's past censoring himself.

“Bet I'd be more comfortable,” Jared nods, again with the perfectly sensible attitude.

“Oh yeah?”

“I'm positive. This is quality lap right here,” Jared says, gesturing at his legs. “Shame to let it go to waste.”

Unable to deny such a convincing argument, Misha slinks off the tub and settles down in Jared's quality lap.

“Jared, I'm so sorry, I didn't -”

“Shhh.” Jared pulls him closer. “I get it, Mish, I do.” Misha leans his head back against Jared's chest and sighs.

“Just because I'm happy for the BAMs doesn't mean I'm going to run off and go all baby crazy. I knew you didn't want kids when I moved in. And I'm ok with that.”

Jared kisses the top of his head, which normally annoys Misha because it makes him feel like a shrimp next to gigantor mooseface over here, but it's kind of nice right now.

“I just want you, Mish, whatever that means.”

Misha turns around and kisses Jared for all he's worth, because kissing is so much better than talking and Jared is just so kissable.

“Even if I'm a pain in the ass who embarrasses you in front of our friends?” Misha shamelessly pouts his lip out.

“You are none of those things, but yes, even then.” Jared kisses him quickly. “And besides, this is nothing on the embarrassing party behavior scale. Remember when your cousins came to visit?”

Misha straightens up in mock indignation. “Look, just because fairy sexual mores are a little, you know, non-traditional...”

“Half your family had an orgy on our front lawn, Mish. In front of my brother and his kids. You really think I'm gonna get uptight about a little dramatic bathroom cloistering?”

Pulling him in closer, Misha laughs and looks into his eyes, which Misha swears are a prettier color every time he looks at them. “If I promise not to invite my relatives, can we still do it on the front lawn?”

Jared laughs and nods. “Between the deliveries and the fact that my ass is half-numb from sitting on this floor, I think you owe me some really,” Jared kisses Misha along his jaw, “really,” runs a tongue along his ear, “dirty sex.”

“Finally, something I'm capable of doing.” Misha smiles and stands up, pulling Jared with him. “Let's go home.”

The BAMs are as gracious as always, pretending nothing happened and sending them off with a promise to come visit them on the coast soon. Misha makes a mental note to send them some new wineglasses and a gift basket.

Jared gets the “you are the best boyfriend ever” blowjob in the car on the way home, because Misha is perfectly capable of saying I'm sorry even if he sucks at awkward conversations.

“You know,” Jared says, shrugging out of his jacket as they stumble inside, “just because we can't have babies doesn't mean we can't practice making them.”

“Oh yeah?” Misha arches an eyebrow as he walks Jared backwards to the bedroom. “Wanna be my baby daddy?”

“No,” Jared pulls Misha on top of him on the bed, pulling both their shirts off. “I just really want you to fuck me.”

Misha kisses him as they squirm out of the rest of their clothes, Jared's underwear landing to hang off a birch branch as Misha licks his way down Jared's chest.

Using his tongue to full advantage, Misha flicks both sides of it against Jared's nipples while he slides a hand down his abs. Jared moans and catches a hand in Misha's hair, arching up into his mouth as Misha wraps a hand around his cock and sucks on his other nipple.

“You could use that somewhere else,” Jared bends his neck to whisper into Misha's ear. Misha looks up at him and grins wickedly.

“Oh could I? Like here?” Misha licks Jared's arm. “Or here?” Two swipes across his stomach. “Or maybe here?” Misha runs his tongue up Jared's thigh, eyes glinting as he stops right at the crease of his leg.

“Mish, please...” Jared bites his lip and whips out the puppy-moose eyes. Shameless.

“Ooooooh, you meant you want me to eat your ass? Just say so, silly.” Misha winks and pushes Jared's legs up, taking a moment to admire the view. Jared works out more than he'd probably admit to anyone, and Misha chalks another favor up to the “huge fan of Misha” god as he runs his eyes up the eighty gazillion miles of leg spread out in front of him. And his ass, jesus christ...

“Oh fuck,” Jared groans, rolling his hips as Misha licks into him. Misha's tongue might scare the shit out of children and make public ice cream consumption sort of awkward, but it makes Jared lose his fucking mind when Misha runs it along either side of his hole.

Swirling it around slowly gets another rewarding groan out of Jared, and he straight up screams Misha's name out when he points one half of it to dip inside him while the other runs up and down the side. Jared works just as hard as Misha does, writhing back onto every thrust of Misha's tongue.

“So fucking good, Misha, jesus,” Jared husks out, big hand in Misha's hair to press him in closer. Misha works as much of his tongue as he can into Jared, rocking his neck forward to push in deeper as he feels Jared relaxing around him.

“Fuck, please, baby,” Jared moans out. Misha pulls off him to look up and smile. He knows what Jared wants.

Rearing back on his knees, Misha sucks one thumb and then the other into his mouth as Jared watches him, eyes darkening. Jared licks his lips and starts to stroke himself, his head falling back as Misha sinks his thumb in.

“There we go,” Misha whispers, bending back down to watch as Jared swallows his finger up. Some things never get old no matter how many times you see them.

Trading one thumb for the other, Misha slowly opens Jared up. “God, that's pretty,” Misha sighs, Jared moaning back at him as Misha feels his muscles relaxing around his finger. Sucking his other thumb back into his mouth, Misha looks up at Jared. A quick nod is the only confirmation he needs, bending back down to slide both his thumbs in.

“Oh fuck, yes.” Jared pushes back against Misha's hand as Misha sinks in to the first knuckle and holds him there. Jared lets out a long “Fuuuuck” as Misha pulls his fingers apart, stretching Jared open. “God, do it, fuck Mish...”

Misha bites his lip as he feels his cock start to leak out a steady stream of precome. Jared could take him right now, knows he's open enough, but Misha wants to get him begging for it. He knows just the thing.

Pulling his thumbs apart a little wider, Misha arches his neck and fills the little gap between his fingers, flicking his tongue in and out as Jared comes apart for him.

“Fuck, Misha, holy fucking christ jesus _fuck_ ,” Jared rasps out, “so fucking good, baby, need you to fuuuuckmmph,” Jared losing the rest of that statement as Misha pulls a little harder, halves of his tongue working in opposite directions as he plants his lips flush with Jared's rim and fucks his tongue in as deep as he can get it.

Misha contemplates getting Jared off just like this, and with the way Jared's working his dick and mumbling out a stream of really filthy nonsense, Misha needs to make a decision and make it soon. But the thought of Jared coming on his cock is just too tempting, so Misha reluctantly pulls off.

Jared's one step ahead of him, free hand rustling around to find the lube and pass it to Misha. Misha's slick and ready in a few seconds, lining himself up as Jared lifts his legs. Misha leans forward and watches Jared's eyes roll back as he sinks in, Misha's weight pushing his legs back until Jared's bent in half under him.

“Fuck, baby,” Misha grunts, breath coming in all jagged as he bottoms out and leans his head against Jared's leg. Jared grits his teeth and hisses out a breath, muscles flexing around Misha's cock as he lets him in.

“You good?” Jared nods at him, face flushed, lips parted open, eyes narrowed down to black slits and thank fucking god that was a yes because Misha can't hold himself back any longer. He plants his hands on either side of Jared's shoulders and draws himself out, holding it for a second as Jared tries to rock back onto him. “Oh fuck, Misha,” Jared whines, “fucking fuck mnnnngh,” Misha answering with a snap of his hips. He keeps up a relentless pace until they're both sweating and panting, Jared's moans filling the room.

“Want you to come for me, baby,” Misha leans up on one arm, eyes on Jared as he licks his palm. “Come while I fuck you, Jay,” reaching down to wrap a hand around Jared's dick.

Jared's teetering on the edge already, eyes barely focused as Misha ruts into him, and it only takes a few quick twists of Misha's wrist before Jared's spilling in between them, screaming Misha's name out.

“Oh my god, Jay, so fucking tight baby, jesus christ...” Jared's clenching down around him, tight hot grip on his dick, “Fuck, Jay, yes baby yes yes _yes_...”

Misha leans in to lock his mouth on Jared's, breath shared between them as he loses himself in the white heat in his veins, hands reaching out to lace into Jared's, circuit of connection between them as Misha comes.

“Love you, baby.” Misha's not sure how many time he's said it, just mumbling it over and over again as he kisses Jared's lips. “Love you, too,” Misha feels Jared say, head resting on his chest as Misha closes his eyes for just a second, just to give his eyes a little rest...

*

“Mish?”

“Mmmmm?” When did Misha's mouth get so dry?

“I'm itchy.” Misha looks up at Jared's face, blearily rubbing his eyes as he feels himself slip out. “Oh my god. Did I fall asleep while I was still _inside you_?”

Jared laughs and nods his head. “Only for, like, fifteen minutes. It's not like I need to feel my legs or anything, it's fine.” Misha buries his face in his hands.

“I am just mister smooth moves tonight, jesus.” Misha rolls over to lay next to Jared.

“It's ok, baby, you can make it up to me.” Jared arches an eyebrow at him and tilts his head. “Scratchies?”

A hand on Jared's chest and out come the antlers. Misha settles into Jared's lap and starts scratching him, smiling at the contented hums Jared makes.

“You know what we should get the BAMs?” Jared asks, leaning his head forward so Misha can peel off a strip of velvet.

“What?”

“ _Goodnight Moon_. Did you ever read that when you were a kid?” Misha smiles, scratching the back prong of Jared's left antler.

“Yeah, I think so … are there mittens in it? And porridge?” Misha wrinkles his nose. “And cats?” Cats and fairies did not get along.

“There's kittens, and I think it's a 'bowl of mush.' Appetizing, right?”

Moving to Jared's right antler, Misha scratches at it and smiles. “She wrote that other one, right, the Runaway Rabbit?”

“Mmm-hmm, Runaway Bunny. I always liked that one. 'If you run away, I will run after you.' Sweet, right?”

“Oh sure, it's sweet when a bunny says it. When I told you I'd chase you down and keep you in a box under the bed if you ever left me, you said I was insane.”

Jared laughs. “And we've gone from children's books to Boxing Helena, nice. And you aren't insane, you're just very, very scary.”

Misha sticks out his tongue. He'd only been about 90% joking with that one.

“I think they'd love those books, we can go pick them up at A Children's Place tomorrow. I want to stop by the New Season's over there anyway, they haven't placed an order in a while and I want to see what they're doing wrong.” Any store that couldn't move Misha's kumquats was clearly doing something wrong.

“Sounds good. She was a were, you know.”

“Who? The girl at New Season's? She is definitely human.”

“No, the author. Margaret Wise Brown. She was a were-rabbit.”

Misha narrows his eyes at Jared.

“Seriously?”

Jared solemnly nods, eyes wide and earnest. “Totally. Why do you think she wrote all those books about bunnies?”

Misha stares at him, Jared's face suspiciously bland and innocent. Jared keeps it up for another two seconds before he breaks out laughing.

“I'm just fucking with you, she was totally human. As far as I know, ow!”

Misha tugs on a lock of Jared's hair. “You are such a jerk.” He rolls his eyes and returns his attention to Jared's antlers.

Jared rubs a hand on Misha's back. “She died really tragically. She had surgery for something, and she was joking with her doctor about how much better she felt. She kicked her leg up as a joke, and she dislodged a blood clot. She died of an embolism, like, a week later.”

Settling his hands down on Jared's chest, Misha frowns at him. “Well that's the saddest fucking thing I've ever heard.”

“I know, right? And she left all the rights to her books to some 9-year-old neighbor, and the kid grew up to be a drunk who blew through, like, five million bucks. He's convinced that she's his mother. Guy sounds like a nutcase.”

Misha pats his hands on Jared's chest and laughs. “Well, now that I'm thoroughly depressed and you're thoroughly scratched, I'd say we're ready to go to sleep.” Misha rolls his eyes and concentrates, putting Jared's rack away for the night. “Goodnight, antlers.”

After they brush their teeth and shut the lights, Misha lays his head on Jared's chest, big arm snugged over his shoulders.

“Goodnight mittens,” Jared whispers.

“Goodnight bowl of mush,” Misha whispers back.

“Goodnight kumquats.” Jared yawns.

Misha draws himself in closer, kissing Jared's chest before he settles his head back down on and closes his eyes.

“Goodnight, moose...”

 

Errata:

[This is a kumquat](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kumquat)

[This is a geoduck](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Geoduck)

 

_Recipes_ :

Massaged Kale Salad:

2 bunches of kale, carefully washed and de-ribbed, cut into small strips

juice of one lemon

3 tablespoons olive oil

salt

1 apple, diced

½ c. dried cranberries

¼ c. toasted pine nuts

  1. In a large bowl, combine kale, lemon juice, olive oil and salt. Massage kale until it softens and turns a deeper green, approximately 10-15 minutes.

  2. Mix in apple, cranberries and pine nuts. Serve chilled.




 

Geoduck Ceviche:

½ pound geoduck neck (siphon), thinly sliced

¼ cup red onion, diced

¼ cup sweet red pepper

½ cup cucumber, peeled & chopped

½ cup papaya, peeled, seeded & chopped

1 serrano pepper, seeded and finely diced

1 clove garlic, minced

1 handful cilantro, stemmed & chopped

1 tablespoon fish sauce (if desired)

1 tablespoon brown sugar

1 tablespoon toasted sesame seeds

2 limes

salt to taste

  1. In a large bowl, combine juice of one lime with sliced geoduck. Stir and let sit for 30 minutes.

  2. Combine garlic, hot pepper, fish sauce if using, and brown sugar in a small bowl. Add juice of one lime.

  3. Add garlic mixture to large bowl. Add onion, pepper, cucumber, papaya and cilantro. Stir and season with salt. Serve chilled.




 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm using this for the "big men" square on my homebrew bingo card.


End file.
